Rip the Inside Out
by seriousbiznasty
Summary: It's been five years since John Egbert disappeared. Dave has given up hope that he's alive. But when the two boys, now 21, crash into each other in Paris, Dave tries to find out just what happened to his friend. John tries to cope with his new freedom from abuse, his altered vision of reality, and his trust issues. It's difficult when they still have strong feelings for each other.
1. Vous Basieur!

You're cold. You're hungry. You're in pain. Those three things have been latched to you ever since the night you were taken. Of course, it's been so long that it doesn't bother you any more. Nothing really bothers you too much any more. You're used to the cold. The pain is so constant, it's hardly noticeable. Your hunger has gnawed through everything it could, leaving you thinner than a French model. You would know. You've been in France for quite a while now. You quit keeping track of the days, the months, the years. You think it's been around two years.

"John!" You flinch at the voice that calls out for you. It's your least favorite in the world. It's your current master's voice. You drop your knees from your chest and stand from the window seat. "Oui, maître?" You cross your arms over your chest and shuffle into his room. You hate the room. The bed. The shitty satin sheets. He pats the bed, and you want to throw up. But you comply, because you don't want another scar across your back. You crawl into the bed and look down at your hands.

Monsieur Kalvin pulls you into his lap and presses his broad chest against your back. He leans down and nips at your ear, rubs your thigh, and you instantly get bad goosebumps. You won't resist, though. You were broken of spirit a long, long time ago. So you just sit there and take it. You do what you're told. You whine and mewl, because you know that's what he likes. And maybe if he's happy with you, he'll feed you more than scraps tonight.

Monsieur Kalvin isn't near as bad as your other masters. He's only twenty-four, three years older than you. He isn't as harsh with punishments when he's in a good mood. He has anger issues, though. You learned that the first time you misbehaved.

You're so happy when he lets go of your wrist, and you pull your hand away from his boxers.

"John, we are going out today. I am feeling... generous. Go change." You nod and depart to your room.

Your room is the basement. You shed out of your dirty house clothes and pull on black jeans and a clean blue and white shirt. The sleeves and collar are blue, the rest is white. It reminds you of something, something from home...

You don't remember home anymore. You've counted five New Year's events that you've had to "entertain" at since you were taken. You've seen so many faces, you hardly remember what your dad's looks like. You know you'd recognize him if you saw him. But that wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't long until you were ushered out to the streets with your master at your side. He puts a lot of trust in you. He knows you won't run. They had broken you a long time ago. So you stroll, side by side, along the streets of Paris. It's not tourist season, but it is December, and the street is cluttered with Americans and Brits and other nationalities.

The street is so crowded today. "John, go to that shop up there and get me a drink." You take the money that your maître handed you and start to push your way through the crowd. You know better than to keep him waiting.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur... E-Excusez-moi, mademoiselle..."

Someone elbows you right in the nose, and it about kills you. "OW! Vous baiseur! What the hell is your problem?!" You hold your nose and keep your face down. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to. God, you alright?" That accent was obviously southern American. You look up, and you freeze.

So does the offender.

Your bright blue eyes meet his shades, and your heart simultaneously speeds up and stops. You can't breathe. You both just stare at each other for a minute. He speaks first.

"...John?" You literally can't force the words out. "...Dave." The next thing you know, his arms are around you in the tightest hug you could ever fathom. "You bastard, you fucking asshole, Jesus Fucking Christ, John! Five years and you couldn't so much as drop a line? Let us know you were alright? God damn it, you FUCKER! God, I missed you so much, you fucking bastard!" You feel your shoulder getting wet, along with your own cheeks.

Dave. It was Dave. Dave from home. Suddenly, your nose doesn't hurt any more.

The hug hurts so bad, he's up against your bruises and cuts, but you don't give a single shit. You hug him back as tightly as you can, which isn't that tight. "Dave..." That's all you can say. "Dave!" Your voice cracks and you bury your face into his neck.

"Christ, John. You're all bony. Don't you eat?" You shake your head, and Dave stiffens a bit. "You don't... Where have you been?" You're so happy he's here. You shake in his arms, and you're trying so hard not to break down, and he rubs your back. "Hey, hey, it's alright. C'mon, you wanna go home?" You sniffle and cling to him tighter. "I... I can't." Dave pulls away and wipes some tears from your face with his sleeve. "Why not?" You look down at your old worn-out shoes and bite your lip. "At least come back to the hotel. Bro's there. You can tell us all about it, alright?" You look back to the spot your master was standing at, but his back is turned as he looks at some of the street vendors.

You turn back to Dave and nod, and God, you've missed that smile so much. "Alright, come on." He takes your hand and leads you towards his hotel.

His hold on your hand is tight, but not enough to hurt you. He shoots out all these questions, but you don't answer a single one. He tries to make conversation, saying how much you've grown and how it's a miracle you're as tall as he is. You don't say anything, you just keep your gaze on the ground and your grip tight. He stops talking when he hears you sniffle, then drops your hand and puts his arm around your shoulders. You wrap an arm around his waist and cling to him. He doesn't object.

You head up to his room at Hotel du Louvre, and you forgot that his brother was super rich. Of course they could afford to stay at a five-star hotel. Everything is so clean and fancy and nice, you forgot that there were rooms better than your basement. Still, you hold onto him when you walk into the room. You're stuck to him like if you let go, he'll disappear right into thin air. It's possible.

After all, that's what happened to you.

"BRO!" he calls, and he takes you to the living room area. You both sit on the couch, and you're still holding on for dear life. "WHAT?" Bro calls back from somewhere in the suite.

"BRO, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE! NOW!" They're loud, so loud, and you cower down a bit. Dave pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smells exactly the same. Everything about him comes flooding back. The late night chats, the sleepovers, the manly gossip.

The fight that made you storm out of his house. The night you were taken.

You can hear Bro enter, and he sounds slightly annoyed. "Dave, the fuck did I tell you about bringing random guys back to the hotel?"

"He's not random," he snaps back. You sniffle some more and look over to Bro.

You swear his pokerface breaks for a few seconds. "Holy shit. John?" You nod against Dave's shoulder and hide your face back against his neck. "Lil bro, where have you been?"

"Bro," Dave interrupts. "You should go call his dad. Tell him we've got him." Bro nods and goes back into his room. Dave carefully brushes a hand through your hair, and you let him. You haven't trusted a damn soul in nearly five years. But you trust him. You know he would never dream of hurting you. "So... You wanna talk about where you've been? Why you left?"

You furrow your brows and look up at Dave. You push your worn glasses up the bridge of your nose and say, "I never left. I didn't want to go." Your voice is soft, quiet. He pushes your shaggy bangs out of your face as a frown tugs at his lips. "Were you taken?" You don't answer. That's enough of an answer for him. "Let me check you out."

"What?"

"I want to see if there's any damage. Take your shirt off." Take... No. No, no no no. He can't be serious. "W-What?"

"Take your clothes off, John." You instantly get those goosebumps again, and you slide away from him.

He can't be like the others.

"John," he insists, but you start to shake. You curl in on yourself, bringing your knees up to your chest, and you wrap your arms around your legs. "Hey, bro, what's wrong?"

"No." He reaches out to touch your leg. "John, what's-"

"NO!" You kick his hand away and he hisses, holding his hand. "Fuck! John, what the fuck?!"

You have no idea why, but you're burning. You're burning and you feel this fire in you and you Dave is one of them. You really can't trust anyone. You have to get out.

You hop off of the couch and bolt for the door. "BRO!" Dave calls, and you instantly hit a wall of muscle right as you're about to get to the door. You fall back on the hardwood floor and slam your head hard. Everything gets a bit fuzzy and dizzy, so you just lay there.

Everything gets a bit distant. "John? Dude, can you h..."

Everything goes dark.

"Shit, what did you do?" Bro asks after taking John's pulse, and your mouth drops open. "I didn't do shit! I just asked him to take his shirt off so I could look at him. He was wincing like a motherfucker on the way over. Something's wrong with him, Bro."

"Well, he's got a nice little goose egg on his head now. That's something wrong." He picks John up with ease as you cradle your hand. Thankfully, it's just jammed. Not broken. You hear Bro's phone ringing non-stop. "That's probably his dad. Go answer it for me while I get this kid set up." You nod and answer the sleek touchscreen.

"Hey, Mr. Egbert..." You tell him everything you know, which isn't much, but it's more than Bro. When he wants to talk to John, you tell him he's sleeping and that you'll cut the vacation short to bring him home.

When you finally coax him into hanging up, you head back to your room and look at John as he's spread out on the bed. "Bro, we gotta call the cops. He said he was kidnapped. He didn't come here by choice. Something's going on." Bro looks down at you and nods. "After he wakes up. Let's just try to keep him calm and happy for now. Let him tell us what happened when he's ready." You nod and sit on the edge of the bed, petting his hair.

"I missed you so much, John."


	2. Room Service

You wish you could say you aren't used to waking up in unfamiliar places, but you can't. Your head is absolutely killing you, and you're in bed alone. It's dark out, and... you're still wearing your clothes? You force yourself to sit up, but instantly regret it. You feel the back of your head, and there's a nice welt there. You guess you must not have been doing something right... After grabbing your glasses, you throw your legs over the edge of the bed and decide you need something to drink. No one will notice if you maybe sneak a piece of bread and cheese with that drink, right?

Once you stand, you nearly fall over, but catch yourself on the dresser and open the door.

Dave and Bro are perched on the couch, intensely focused on a video game.

So... It wasn't a dream.

You don't remember much after telling Dave that you were taken. You stroll out of the bedroom and click the door shut behind you. That's when you catch Dave's attention, and he pauses the game. "Hey, bro. How ya feelin?"

"Dizzy," you softspokenly reply. Dave nods and turns to Bro. "You hungry?" Bro stretches after setting the controller down. "Starvin. What about you, John?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine." Dave raises a brow and gives you a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, whatever. You've been sleepin all day, I know you're hungry. We'll order in some lobster or some shit, alright?" You rub your arm and shrug. "I'm fine with just bread or something." Dave 'pffft's you and turns to Bro. "Call room service?"

"I'm on it." Bro stands and heads into his room. Dave turns back to you and pats the couch next to him. "C'mon, wanna play a video game or something?" You shake your head, but sit on the opposite end of the couch. "What happened?" you ask, kind of afraid to know the answer.

"You went batshit crazy, bro. I noticed you kept wincing and everything on the way over, so I asked you to take off your shirt so I could look to see if you were hurt or something. But you just kind of freaked and ran for the door. Bro stopped you, but you fell and thunked your noggin."

"...Oh." It all comes back to you, and saying that you feel guilty is an understatement. "...How's your hand?" you quietly ask. He holds it up, showing off the ace bandages. "It's swelling a bit, but it'll be alright. It's not broken, doesn't feel fractured." You nod and look down at your lap. "You ain't got anywhere you need to be right now, right?" Dave asks you, and you think.

Fuck.

"Kalvin!" You jump up and start towards the door, but Dave is quicker. "Ohhh, no no no. We are NOT doing this again."

"I have to go! I have to go see Kalvin! Fuck, he's going to _kill_ me! He's probably got his cops out searching the whole country!" You try to push past him, but he's a rock and you're a blade of grass. "Hold up, now. Who's Kalvin?" You huff and try your hardest to push Dave out of the doorway. "He's my ma-"

You pause. You stop pushing Dave. You think.

This is your only chance to get out of this hellhole of a situation. This is your only chance to get HOME. Why do you want to go back to that scum fucker? Dave's trying to get your attention, but you ignore him and continue to think. Is it because you think that's how you deserve to be treated? That's likely. You're nothing but a whore, anyways. Why would Dave want you home? Why would your DAD want you home? You're just a filthy little slut. You're less than that. You're just trash. And you know it.

"...hn? Joooohn? Yoo-hoo! Hey. John." Dave snaps his fingers in front of your eyes and you flinch, snapping out of your trance. "Bro. What was that?" You furrow your brows and look down. "Thinking."

"Bout what?" You shake your head and go back to pushing him, harder, rougher, more determined. "Let me go, Dave." He presses his back against the door and roots himself to the spot. "No."

"LET ME GO!" There it is again, that fire, that burning will to get out. You shove and push and ram your shoulder into his side until he stumbles over, and you get door access.

But it's locked, and by the time you figure that out, Dave's got you pinned to the ground. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, JOHN?"

"LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GO!"

"WHERE THE HELL DO YOU HAVE TO GO?"

"I HAVE TO GO SEE KALVIN!"

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU GOTTA GO SEE KALVIN?"

"I'M HIS FUCKING PROPERTY, I HAVE TO FUCKING GO!"

Dave stops for a minute, as do you. You're panting, and Dave's voice softens.

"What do you mean... his property?"

"The fuck do you _think_ I mean? He bought me, I'm his property. And who knows how many people he's already hurt looking for me?"

"I... John, I had no-"

"Get off. _Now._"

Your voice cracks at the last word, and you can feel the tears coming to your eyes. Dave moves off of you and helps you up, but you shrug away from him. "Will you please look at me?" You keep your eyes on the ground. "John... Why do you want to go back?"

"I have to."

"No. No, you really don't." He pulls you into a hug, and you just stand there. "You can come home. With me and Bro. Your dad is dying to see you. He's gone crazy without you. Baking welcome home cakes every week, buying you new video games and gag toys and stuff. John, we want you to come home."

"No. You don't," you manage to get out, a few tears escaping your eyes. "You have no idea... The things I've done..."

"I don't care. Bro doesn't, and I know that Dadbert won't, either. We all love you way too much, John. We're not letting you go so easily after all this time." You shake your head, and his grip tightens. "No one cares what you did, John. We just care about you."

You finally break down and hug him back. "I wanna go home."

"I know you do, buddy. We only have two more days here. That should be enough time to nab that Kevin guy-"

"Kalvin."

"Nab that Kalvin guy and get out of here." You nod and nuzzle your face against his shoulder. He nuzzles right back and kisses the top of your head. "So... You wanna talk to me about it?" You shake your head and pull away from him. There's a knock at the door.

"Room service!" When you hear that voice, you jump. You hate that voice. Those damn goosebumps return, and you're immediately heading towards Dave's room. "Hey, where you going?"

You ignore him and lock yourself in the room. "John?" Dave tries the handle, and gently knocks. "John, what's wrong? ...John? Talk to me." You can't help but to think about how similar this is to that time you were sixteen, at school with Dave. You heard him talking shit about you with all of his popular friends, so you shoved right by him and locked yourself in the janitor's closet.

But this time, it wasn't his fault.

You can hear the front door creak open, and Kalvin's horrible voice fills the room. "Good evening, messieurs! I was hoping you would help me find a nephew of mine." It's quiet for a minute, and Dave replies. "What did you say your name was?"

"Kalvin. Kalvin Hart, pleasure to make you acquaintance." Bro's deep, threatening tone suddenly fills the room. "We haven't seen him. Get out."

"But monsieur, are you for certain? Here, look at his picture aga-"

"I said. _He's not. Here._"

"...I am offering a reward. I will pay you five hundred thousand American currency."

"Seeing as how we're in one of the most expensive rooms in a five star hotel, ordering lobster and sipping shitty drinks, we don't need your money."

Shit, Dave is getting sassy.

"Very well... If you change your mind, here is my card." Footsteps head towards the door, but Dave stops him. "Wait."

You can literally feel your heart shatter.

"Can I see the picture again? ... Oh! This guy! What was his name?"

"John, monsieur."

"Yeah! I know this guy. I bumped into him around noon on the street, and he hit the ground, knocked himself right out. He just woke up and headed back to your place. He said something about you ripping up the country looking for him."

"That is true! I care for him very much. He is precious to me. Well, I am best to be off. Bonsoir, messieurs."

The door clicks closed and Dave knocks on the door between the two of you. You crack it open and peek out, making sure he's gone before you step out. Dave examines the card in his hand, then goes over to the phone.

Your heart races so fast, you feel it's going to come up your throat. "W-What are you doing?" He leans against the couch with a hotel phone against his ear. "Calling the cops."

Kalvin was arrested on the spot, along with your previous owner (she was the biggest bitch ever), along with the owners of the whore house you had been shipped to from Ukraine, and the Ukraine authorities were checking into that. All the girls and the few boys that were kept hostage in the French house were released. You know for a fact there were plenty of people in that house that could testify against Kalvin, so the police let it slide. After you told them everything you knew, they let you out of the questioning room so you could go sit in the lobby with Dave and Bro.

You sit on the loveseat with Dave, a huddled up mess in his lap. You had been through so much in one day, you don't know how you aren't all cried out yet. You feel pitiful, though. Weak. You shouldn't cry this much, there's no excuse for that. Every time you think that, you become more frustrated with yourself and cry harder. Dave just rocks you back and forth, soothingly running his fingers through your hair and rubbing your back.

You have no idea how you've gotten on so long without him.

You wipe your tears away when an officer addresses you. "I am so terribly sorry to do this, but it is reccomended take you into protective custody for your saftey."

"...What?" You don't quite understand. You told them everything you knew, which was a lot, and they arrested everyone that could hurt you. Everyone that still cared enough to hurt you, at least.

"So... he can't stay with us?" Bro asked. "No," the officer replies. And that's what sets you off.

"No," you state, very firm and clear. The fire rises within you, and you grip Dave's shoulders.

"But, Monsieur John, it's for your own saf-"

"_No_." Dave continues to rub your back. "John, it's alright, we can jus-"

"No! I am NOT going ANYWHERE without Dave or Bro!"

"Monsie-"

"NO!"

You can tell you've won, because the officer man deflates. "We will not be held accountable for your saftey, John."

You nod. "I know. That's why I have the Striders." You move your arms around Dave's neck and hold onto him, and he holds you back. "Very well. Here are his papers and passport." The officer hands Bro your stuff, and he takes it. "Cool."

"I would suggest a hospital visit. I know a doctor that does this sort of thing for free at the local hospital." He hands Bro a card, and Bro nods. "We'll head over there tomorrow." The officer tips his hat. "Have a nice night, men."

The three of you take your leave, Dave carrying you on his back. "Shit, you're light as a feather." You don't say anything, but wrap your arms around Dave's neck and rest your chin on his shoulder. You all make it back to the hotel in no time, and head straight up to your room where lobster is waiting, still steaming.

Your mouth waters at just the smell when Bro lifts the silver tray cover. You all sit at the dining table, Bro at the end and you and Dave on either side of him, and crack open your lobsters. You can't tell if you like yours better plain or drowned in butter. It's so good that you finish off what Dave can't eat. By the end of the meal, you swear you've gained ten pounds.

You haven't felt this full and over all happy in years.

"John," Bro calls after he moves to the couch. "Yes?" you reply, moving over to him. He hands you his phone. "You should call your dad."

You don't know if it's because you started shaking or if it's because you're frozen in place, but Dave is at your side in an instant with an arm around you. "He misses you like crazy. And he's been dying to talk to you all day. You can do this, John. I'll be right here."

You nod and slowly take the phone, examining it before you scroll through the contacts. You see your dad's name and hesitate. Dave squeezes your free hand. "Come on, you can do it."

You dial the number. You barely have time to hear it ring. "Broderick? Bro, is that you? Are you there? How's John? Is he alright? ...Bro? How's John?"

"...Dad?"


	3. Egbert

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and hunch over the toilet as you feel another wave coming. You heave and empty out the rest of your stomach into the porcelain. Dave holds the hair out of your face so it doesn't get caught in the crossfire. You stop for a minute, panting with a few stray tears running down to your chin.

"You alright now?" he asks, and you nod slowly. He drops your hair and leaves the spacious bathroom, but returns with some gum and a bottle of water. You graciously accept and rinse your mouth out before popping some minty chewing sticks in your mouth.

"So," he starts, "lobster probably wasn't the best idea." You nod and stand with his help. "It's not as good the second time around." A smile twitches at the corner of Dave's mouth, and you follow him out of the bathroom. "I don't reckon so. Shit, it was probably just too rich for your stomach to handle. You'll be alright, we just gotta build your appetite back up again." You shrug and take your glasses from him. Bro's talking to your dad right now since you dropped the phone and bolted. Dave rubs your back and asks, "Do you want to sleep in my bed or on the couch?"

"Can I... sleep in the bed with you?" He nods and ruffles your hair a bit, causing you to smile and flatten it back down. "Sure, bro. Just like the good ol' days." You nod and sit next to Bro on the couch. "Can I say goodnight to him?" Bro nods and hands off the cell to you after a few more exchanges of words.

"Hey, Dad."  
"John, are you quite alright?"  
"Yeah, I am now. I just had some bad lobster, that's all."  
"Alright... Are you sure?" You can't help but to grin.  
"Yes, Dad! Positive. I'm okay. But it's getting around one in the morning over here, so I'm going to bed. We're going to the doctor tomorrow so I can get a check-up."  
"What? What's wrong with you? What happened?"  
"Dad! I'm fine, it's just that I haven't seen a doctor since I was sixteen. I should probably go, yeah?"  
"Yeah... Alright. Be safe, don't let Dave or Bro out of your sight. Stay with them at all times. Don't stray or wander off. I... can't lose you again." You're quiet for a minute, then look down at your lap. "You won't have to. I promise. Okay, time for me to sleep. I love you!"  
"I love you, too, son. So much. Call me tomorrow, alright? Anytime is fine, I'll answer."  
"Okay, Dad. Night."  
"Goodnight, son."

You hand the phone back to Bro and head into Dave's room, shutting the door behind you, to see he's already tucked under the covers, shirtless and sitting up so he can watch TV. His shades are placed on the bedside table, and the lights are all off. He looks over at you and smiles. "Hey, say night to your dad?"

Christ, you had no idea how much you missed those beautiful eyes.

"Mmhm!" After kicking your shoes and socks off, you pull the covers back and start to crawl into bed, but Dave stops you. "Bro. Bro, are you wearing jeans to bed?" You look down at your jeans. "These are the only clothes I have. All my stuff is at Kalvin's. The police said they'd drop it off tomorrow." Dave gets out of bed and moves to the dresser, pulling out a pair of plaid fleece pants. "Wear these. They're comfy as shit." You catch them when they're tossed to you. In the light of the TV, you can see tons of scars that trace themselves across Dave's chest and abdomen. There are several along his arms, too.

You have scars like that.

"John?" Your eyes snap up to meet his, and he raises a blonde brow at you. "Dude, you alright?" You nod. "I was just thinking." He goes back to the bed and basically jump-dives into his spot. "Thinkin bout what?" You run your fingers over the soft pants in your hands and look down at them. They're purple and black, plaid spreading across the fabric. "I have a lot of scars, too." Dave nodded, turning on his side so he could talk to you easier. "You know, when you were knocked out, I wanted to lift your shirt up and look. Check you out for cuts and stuff, but I didn't. I wanted you to be okay with it first."

You nod and quickly switch out your pants, thankful that it's too dark for Dave to see the detailed imperfections. You climb into the bed and you swear, you've never been so comfortable in your life. It's the best bed in the world, and it's a great change from your little pelt on a concrete ground. You deflate a bit and pull the covers up to your chest, and it's so warm.

You're so happy, you could cry. But you don't. There's been enough of that today.

You just lay there with a stupid grin, eyes half-lidded, and turn to look at Dave. He's smiling at you, and you smile right back. "That good, huh?" You nod and set your glasses on the bedside table, then turn on your side to face him. "So... why are you guys in Paris? Why now?"

"We came up for my birthday. Just turned twenty-one, so why not go to Paris?" Wow. You feel like shit. You forgot your best friend's birthday. "Oh... I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Dude, I don't blame you in the slightest. You've been kind of busy the past few years." You look down at your hands and nod. Dave reaches out and takes your hand, which causes you to look up at him. "I missed you so much, Egbert. You have no idea." You forgot how much you missed that name. "I missed you, too, Stridork."

"Egderp."

You laugh quietly. It's a foreign feeling, you haven't laughed for so long. Still, you laugh and stick your tongue out at Dave. "So... John, do you wanna... maybe talk about it?" The smile falls from your lips, and you can see the regret in his eyes from the flicker of the TV. You cast your eyes down, and you think for a second.

Dave saved you. He saved you from the personal hell you had been in for five years. You can tell that he cares about you, worries about you. It's been obvious ever since he popped your nose. If you trust anyone, it's Dave. Thankfully, you just gave yes or no answers at the police station. No details.

You flinch away when you feel a hand against your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts, and look up at Dave. He immediately draws his hand away when you flinch. "Shit, sorry. You space out again?" You nod. "You don't have to tell me, you know."

You sit up and push the covers down to your hips, then start to tug at your shirt. The words you search for escape you, so you'll just show him. He stares at you, all the bruises and cuts and hickeys. There are scars, just a few. They're nothing but light white marks across your abdomen now. Most of them are across your back, giant pink scars that stick out. Those are from the whip.

Dave just stares at you. At your chest, at the bruises, at the hickeys around your nipples and hips. The handprint bruises on your waist, your shoulders, the rope burns on your wrists. He furrows his brows a bit and looks you over. "Christ, John... I'm glad we're getting you to the doctor tomorrow." You nod and slip back under the covers, pulling them up to your chin.

Dave slips an arm around you, and you scoot closer to him until your chests are pressed together. You can literally feel the heat radiating off of him, and you blush a bit. Shit, it's been forever since you last blushed. You didn't think anything could still make you do that.

You curl against his chest, and Dave's trying so hard not to hurt you, you can tell. He softly pets your hair, twirling the messy shag in his fingers, and presses his forehead against yours. You grin softly and stay put, moving your hand up and down his chest. "I'm so sorry, John." This catches you off guard, though. "For what?" you ask softly. He replies just as softly. "I'm sorry for everything that happened between us. That night you were taken."

"Oh."

That's right, you remember. You and Dave were fighting, really fighting. Swinging punches and screaming at each other. You stormed out of his house and started to head back to yours. It was raining, pouring down something fierce. Your bike had been caught in the crossfire of the fight, so you were walking home. And you were taken.

"I'm so sorry, John. This is all my fault." You move your hand to Dave's cheek, and rub your thumb against it. "No, no, it's not. None of this is your fault, Dave. It's not."

"It is. If I hadn't been trying to cover up... If I hadn't been talking shit about you to those guys, if I had been there for you like I was supposed to be, I..." Dave buries his face into the pillow, and you run your hand through his silky blonde hair. "Dave, listen to me. It's not your fault, it never will be your fault, and I'm never going to blame you for this. It's not your fault, I promise." He looks back up at you, face slightly red and a few tears appearing. You brush them from his face as he speaks. "Everyone quit looking for you. I should have kept looking, I should have tried harder to find you. I shouldn't have given up. God, I'm so sorry, John."

"Dave, it's alright. You found me. You saved me, you're taking me home. That's more than what I could ever ask for." You set your foreheads back together, and you press yourself up against him completely. You know it's okay. You know that as long as you're with Dave...

...everything will be alright.

And that thought is what drives you as you let your eyes slip closed, and you brush your lips against his. He pushes back against your lips just enough to kiss you softly. You slip your hand behind his neck and kiss him hard, you kiss him as passionately as you can muster, and he returns the favor. Your teeth capture his bottom lip, and you tug. He parts his lips just for you and you slip your tongue into his mouth.

It's your first willing kiss in five years. And it's with the guy of your dreams.

It feels like hours of making out, but it's just been a few minutes, and he pulls away. "Christ, John... Don't ever leave again, alright?"

"I won't if you protect me."

"Yeah, that's definitely a thing I can do."


End file.
